Checkered
by Llampaca Eating Guppy
Summary: An accident starts a chain of events that gives Chris a pair of new friends and a shot at competing in a Beyblade tournament. But when things begin to go dangerously awry, Chris can't help but wonder if old mistakes are coming back to haunt him. (No content changed- just different summary because the first one was terrible)
1. Chapter 1

**Checkered**

 **WARNINGS: Darker stuff scattered throughout, some language, an OC later on. I don't want to spoil too much for you guys, so I think I'll leave it at that.**

 **NOTES: I am awful at figuring out what genre to put these things into, so genre is a bit of a stab in the dark. Sorry if I disappoint you by writing something that doesn't fit very well.**

…

"I'm sorry. We shouldn't have offered without-"

"Hey, don't worry about it." Chris cut him off. "You didn't know. It's not your fault."

"Yes it _is_. I should have checked everything out before I started talking." Toby groaned.

They talked for a while, most of it still Toby apologizing and Chris brushing it off. With his background, he was used to this kind of thing. Not that he told Toby that, of course, that would just make him feel worse. At least this time the friends bailing on him felt bad about it. Had he been excited about the possibility of filling in for Masamune on Team Dungeon? Yes, but things happen. There would be other tournaments- not tournaments that would give the winning team a chance to compete in the next world tournament, true, but other tournaments. It was fine.

Eventually, he managed to at least somewhat convince Toby that the universe wasn't imploding and hung up the phone. He sat on his couch for a while, absently scrolling through the group texts between him, Toby, Zeo, King, and Masamune. Maybe it was for the best. Team Dungeon was a good group, but between King and Masamune, Chris found himself on his last nerve after a few days. Weeks at a time could be a nightmare. He was more likely to keep his sanity, so he supposed it was a good thing, even if it meant giving up the opportunity of a lifetime.

He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He had nothing to do and all day to do it, so might as well waste some time.

"And teams are scrambling to sign up as soon as possible for the recently announced tournament, which is rumored to be-" the news announcer's message was halted by Chris turning the TV back off. So much for that. He pulled out Orion and studied the bey. Maybe he should just go do some training. It would be more constructive if nothing else.

Chris could feel the tension begin to ease almost as soon as he went out to the woods. It wasn't a lot of space, but it was enough to get away from other human beings. At least, it normally was.

"Never seen anybody else around here before."

Chris looked towards the source of the voice to find someone sitting in a nearby tree. His pale blue hair was a stark contrast to the dark browns and greens surrounding him. Speaking of which, one of those branches was moving. "You know there's a snake up there, right?"

He turned and noticed the snake with a yelp before leaping down to land next to him. "Thanks," he said, eyeing the snake. "I'm Damian, by the way."

"Chris," Chris told him, trying to figure out why Damian looked so familiar. "What were you doing up there?"

"I like climbing. It makes me feel taller," Damian shrugged before he noticed Chris' bey holder. "You're here training, too?"

Chris nodded. "Do you know the haunted stadiums?"

"I've _camped_ in the haunted stadiums. Never saw anything though."

The haunted stadiums were a collection of raised cement bey stadiums near the edge of the forest. They were left to be overrun by nature decades ago, and had a local reputation of being haunted at night, hence the nickname. Some of them were still in reasonable shape if you took the time to clean them up, but Chris didn't often go there. It was too close to civilization for his tastes. That didn't necessarily mean that he wouldn't take a detour over there for the sake of a battle, because he most definitely would. "You want to head over and battle quick?"

They talked on the way. Usually Chris hated talking to strangers. "Yeah I was a blader for hire for years and I've done some really messed up stuff but don't worry I'm out of that nasty business now," wasn't even worth considering as an option and thinking up a different life story to tell strangers interested in small talk felt wrong, even if it was what he tended to do. Damian didn't pry about his background, though, and Chris didn't ask about his, so the whole thing was pretty enjoyable for once. They spent most of it quoting Mystery Science Theater 3000 after Chris caught a reference Damian managed to work into their conversation.

They had a stadium cleared out in what felt like no time. "Ready?" He asked.

"Ready," Damian nodded, pulled out his bey, and snapped it into his launcher. Chris still got a glance of it, though, and his memory clicked. He _knew_ Damian looked familiar; he'd been in Team Starbreaker. But, in his defense, Damian looked a lot different without the all-out cape thing. The realization that he was going up against a blader strong enough to go to the last world championship made him grip his launcher tighter in anticipation. Things were starting to get interesting.

"Three…"

"Two…"

"One…"

"Let it rip!"

Their beys clashed in the stadium, each testing the strength of the other. Chris gradually put more force into Orion's attacks, but Kerbecs handled them well and replied with some powerful blows of its own.

"Kerbecs, Hades Drive!"

Chris watched Kerbecs respond and begin circling the stadium. He'd seen Damian use this special move before. It was impressive, but Orion could withstand it. Barnard's loop would overpower it, true, but he didn't want to finish this yet. Bladers for hire didn't enjoy their battles, they finished them, and the cruel efficiency Chris had forced himself to employ left him craving longer battles. "Don't move, Orion!" The wall of flames shot up without warning and Chris had to take a step back. Orion was far more resistant than he was, and that fire was _hot_.

The sarcastic part of him commented that he should know about fire being hot by his age and he almost laughed at himself. Almost. He tried to avoid behavior that could lead people to think he was crazy.

The fire subsided. Orion was fine, although not in as good condition as he'd predicted. Maybe he'd underestimated that special move. "Hit him hard, Orion!" His bey did so, and Kerbecs bounced backwards from the force of the impact. Chris sent Orion again, putting a lot into his attacks, far more than he could in the battles he'd had recently. He'd hoped as much, given Damian's previous performance on a worldwide scale, but getting what he hoped for was still more than Chris was used to. It looked like Damian wouldn't be able to handle much more, though, Orion had Kerbecs pushed near the edge of the stadium.

"Get out of there while you still have room, Kerbecs!" Damian called.

"You can't run in a stadium this size, there's nowhere to go."

"Who said anything about running? Kerbecs, Hades gate!"

As curious as Chris was about seeing Damian in Hades firsthand, he'd underestimated Damian once already. Besides, it had been a long time since he'd used his own special move. "Orion, Barnard's Loop!"

The stadium wasn't made to withstand that kind of force even when it was in pristine condition, let alone after being abandoned for so long. The beys barely made contact before it shattered.

Chris yelped and leapt back, but his eyes never left the cloud of dust obscuring his view of Orion. When it settled enough for him to see, he found Orion spinning beside a still Kerbecs and he smiled as he called Orion back to him. "Damian, that was awesome! We should do this again sometime."

Nothing happened.

Chris looked up. He couldn't see Damian on the far side of the debris. "Damian?" Still nothing. Chris ran across the rubble. Everything screeched to a halt when he found him still on the ground. Chris' stomach twisted into a knot. What had he done?

...

 **A/N: Well now, so begins my next project. Do you have any idea how many times I have to rewrite first chapters before I actually get any quality? There's so much pressure that I just can't do it. They are the royal bain of my existence, let me tell you. I'd forgotten that I hate them so much.**

 **And yes, Jack will be in this. Look at the list of characters, he's up there.**

 **And no, this is not a ghost story. As fun as taking a swing at that would be, it's not happening here.**

 **Right then, now that that's all settled, I guess I should say that I don't own Beyblade, I never will own Beyblade, and I'm not going to stop writing Beyblade fan fictions for a long time. Whether or not that's a good thing is up for you to decide. Favorites, follows, reviews and constructive criticisms are always welcome, so don't be shy. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a nice day :)**


	2. Chapter 2

He rushed back to Kerbecs, desperately praying to anything that might listen that he hadn't done irreparable damage to the bey. He scooped it up and have it a careful but quick look-over. He hadn't. Chris allowed himself a small sigh before he shoved Kerbecs in his pocket and returned his attention towards Damian, this time noticing the pool forming around his head. Chris kneeled next to him and lifted it as gently as he could, doing his best to suppress a shudder when the blood marked his hands. He stared at the wound, strangely numb.

Damian shifted and Chris almost jumped, the start snapping him back into reality. He tugged the bandana he kept around his ankle off with one hand and pressed it against the wound, causing Damian to stiffen with a hiss.

"You're awake?"

"Yeah… was I not?" Damian's voice was off and his words were slurred together, but he was talking. Chris took that as a good sign.

"You were unconscious just a few seconds ago."

"How long?"

Chris hesitated, trying to gauge the span of time. "Not long- maybe a minute," he relieved the pressure on Damian's head to take off his vest, wad it up, and press it on top of the bandana. "You got your phone on you?"

"It's dead."

Chris' heart sank. He never took his with him when he went out training. There was no way to recharge it and too many ways for him to break or lose it. "I don't have mine," he admitted. "We're going to have to move. You think you can keep pressure on this?"

Damian did as he was asked. Chris hoisted him onto his feet, pulling Damian's free arm over his shoulders. The height difference was large enough that it wasn't particularly comfortable, but it still seemed like the easiest way to go about doing it, so Chris dealt with it. Progress was slow. He did his best to keep Damian talking- not about anything in particular, just made sure he kept rambling about something. Despite knowing plenty about how to put people into unsavory situations, he knew much less about how to get someone out of one. He'd never had to; that wasn't his job. That would have been considered borderline counterproductive by most in his old line of work. Still, if Damian was talking he was awake, and if he was awake he at least seemed to be farther from the brink of death.

They weren't far from civilization, so even with their slow pace it wasn't terribly long until they reached a road. He'd never been more happy to hear the sounds of traffic in his life.

…

Chris expected Damian decide that if they never met again it'd be too soon, given the circumstances they'd met under, but that was far from what he got and a few days after Damian was released from the hospital he found himself on Damian's couch watching The Matrix. When he jokingly told him so, Damian laughed hard enough to almost choke on his popcorn.

"No, if anyone were to have done that, it'd have been Jack. I'm still amazed he didn't go into vengeful diva mode on you." Damian told him. "Although I'll tell you this much: I'd have thrown you in Hades and left you there had you dragged _his_ sorry, semi-conscious self out of the woods," he added with a grin when Jack darted into the room.

"Yeah, well, not all of us have a Hades constantly open to our disposal," Jack snapped. "Has anyone seen my paintbrush?"

"You have tons of them in your room, you idiot."

"I don't want those, I want _mine_."

The corners of Chris' mouth twitched up as they bickered, raising their voices in order for the comebacks to be heard as Jack continued down the hall, although their place wasn't big, so they were hardly screaming at each other. It was bigger than his apartment, but that wasn't saying much. No matter how much the WBBA assured him that old coworkers wouldn't be able to find him, he didn't see any harm in being too careful, and who was going to look for a blader for hire with millions of dollars to his name in a tiny apartment that reeked of cigarettes and cost practically nothing?

"Why don't you just not use paint?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you knew what medium would be most suitable for the image in _my_ head." Jack snapped back, voice more distant than before. He must have reached the end of the hall.

"Be careful in that closet, I couldn't reach to get the box back-" a crash and long string of curses interrupted Damian's warning, "...onto the top shelf very well.".

The polite translation of what Jack yelled back was that he should have said something earlier.

"I was going to-"

"I FOUND IT!" Jack rushed back through the room.

"Where was it?" Chris asked, curious.

"My pocket," the answer barely made it out before Jack slammed the door, probably already to get back to Chris' Harley before he lost his inspiration. Chris was letting him paint it, not like that had been a hard decision, and Jack had alternated between staring at it and drafting concept designs all day. He wouldn't let Chris see any of them, but if he worked even half of the magic he had on his and Damian's old Chevy, he would soon create one of the awesomest bikes in the world, at least aesthetically, so Chris was unconcerned. What did concern him was the idea growing in the back of his mind. He barely even knew them.

 _What better way to get to know someone than at a tournament?_

He pushed the rebuttal into the back of his mind. He had bad luck with tournaments. Even recently, when things were looking up, Team Dungeon had ditched him.

 _That wasn't deliberate. They felt terrible about it._

The internal war generated enough tension to make him want to pull his hair out.

"Earth to Chris, you in there?"

He snapped back into reality just in time to feel a piece of popcorn hit his head. "Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?"

"You really didn't even hear any of what I said about the WCER?"

WCER? As in World Championships Elimination Rounds- the tournament? "It's a gift," he shrugged and shoved more popcorn in his mouth. "What about it?"

"I haven't cleared it with Jack or anything, but I was still wondering, if you weren't already competing-"

Chris didn't need to hear the rest of it.

…

 **A/N: Well now, it's the second chapter and I'm already taking forever to update. Sorry about that. My writing time's been a bit haphazardly spaced lately. Hopefully things will settle back down soon.**

 **I don't own MFB. Favorites/follows/reviews are always welcome. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chris messaged his temples, fighting down the urge to smack his face against the keyboard. Thinking of a team name was proving more difficult than he had anticipated, and they needed one to be able to fill out the application. He assumed that Jack would just think of one within a few minutes, but artist's block chose the least opportune moment possible to strike, so it was just him and Damian. Unfortunately, neither one of them was managing to come up with anything good.

"Try looking for a random word generator. Jack does that sometimes for his stuff," Damian suggested, dropping back into his seat from getting a soda.

"On it," Chris pulled up a new tab and started looking. They went through quite a few, since it kept giving them things like windmill or plush.

"Arrangemen-"

"No," Damian didn't even let him finish saying it.

"Okay, okay- jeez. Next batch: paradise, rhythm, pandemonium," he blinked. "What the heck is a pandemonium?"

"It's like the capital of hell."

The capital of hell, of course Damian would know something like that. "It's fun to say."

"Done. Hey, Jack, what you think about Team Pandemonium?"

"Leave me alone to die, Damian!" Jack's voice came back from the hall.

Chris tapped his finger a few times. "You think we should take that as a yes?"

"I would."

The rest of the form was fairly straightforward. There was the odd few hoops to jump through, but with anything on this scale that was to be expected. The tournament itself ran on a basic point system. Every team was assigned two out of ten massive tournaments held around the country at random, travel and housing costs covered, and the rest was up to the choice of the members. Once it officially started, they had six months to get the minimum number of points. Chris had no doubt that they would make it, but for now all they could do was wait.

And so Chris did wait. At first, each day dragged on for eons, but then he remembered that many of the tournaments would be filmed and aired on television, meaning that he and Orion would be fully in the public eye. The realization prompted a panicked 3 A.M. call to the American branch of the WBBA and, although he was assured that everything was fine and they took care of it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't thought this through very well.

Their first match was local and fairly small. Even though there was a film crew to air the battles on a local channel or two, Chris wasn't too worried. If the WBBA said they would somehow take care of the issue of him being on national television without jeopardizing his new life, he didn't have any doubts that it could handle two or three channels. It wasn't an organization to make false promises. How it was planning on keeping him under protection when nationwide publicity became an issue was beyond him, but for the sake of his sanity he tried not to think about it.

Jack and Damian were another story. It was little things mostly. They were unusually quiet and followed him around like a pair of ducklings, eyes darting around as if they were trying to keep track of everything at once. A few minutes before their first scheduled battle was about to start, he finally managed to back them into a corner. "You two okay?"

He got back a pair of rushed replies saying everything was fine. They came out a little too fast and with a few too many excuses, but he didn't have the time to push it. Whatever it was, though, it didn't affect their performance. Damian owned the stadium the entire time he was on it and, although Jack didn't have to go at all, he still noticeably relaxed as the day went on. The entire thing went without a hitch and they walked away from that tournament over the moon, taking their first points with them.

They grew more comfortable with each other as things progressed and slipped into a rhythm. By the time they were getting ready to go to their first assigned tournament, Jack and Damian were more at ease than he was, with the warning sirens blaring in his head. But their battles went smoothly, the WBBA seemingly managed to keep him under the radar, and by the third day in Chris was much more at ease while looking over their schedule on the short walk back from the shuttle stop to the hotel. Depending on how things played out, they were going up against Team Dungeon and he wanted to try to figure out how likely that was to happen, given that would be a good round of battles.

And then Jack screamed.

Chris' eyes snapped up to find him running towards his and Damian's antique Chevy. Unlike Team Dungeon, who had to take a day-long train ride to get to this tournament, they only lived a few hours away, so they drove. Since there was a shuttle in place between the stadium and the hotel, the WBBA had put quite a few teams there. They were packed, but it was still preferable to trying to navigate the atrocious traffic that came before and after any major sporting event, so Jack and Damian's car had stayed in the hotel's parking lot the entire time. Both of them considered it their pride and joy, Damian because he managed to get its engine to work, and Jack because he spent months painting it and revamping the interior. Between their efforts, it was usually a sight to behold, but with the slashed tires and profanities scrawled in spray paint all over it, it looked like a hunk of trash.

A streak of blue flashed by as Damian chased after him, skidding around to pop up the hood before dashing out of sight, leaving Jack alone to lean on the car. Once Chris got closer, he could see his shoulders shake with the hitches in his breathing.

The hood slammed down and Damian came back around. "Well, the good news is they left the engine alone, so all we've got to deal with are the tires and the… paint," he finished reluctantly, tracing along an _F_ with his finger.

"It took me ages to do this."

"And you'll fix it. She's going to be fine," Damian told him. After a pause, he continued. "We'll need to need to get her somewhere to get the tire issue addressed, though."

"I'm really not in the mood to deal with people, Damian."

"Then go inside. I'll deal with it."

Jack straightened enough to look at him. Although a fresh tear was slipping down his cheek, carrying more makeup from his eyes, the primary emotion Chris could pick up on was concern. "It'll be dark soon."

"Oh please, I'm a world-class blader in a well-lit parking lot, what's going to happen? At least go fix your face, you look like a racoon."

Jack hesitantly nodded and started to drift back towards the hotel. Chris lingered, churning the last bit of their exchange in his head. Damian's voice pulled him out of it. "You should go with him. He does better when he's got someone to talk at."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You don't even really have to do anything- just sit there and half-listen, throw in a nod or two."

Chris hesitated. They had bonded quickly, meeting under the conditions that they had and then forming a beyblading team had catalyzed things, but sitting in on an emotionally unstable Jack still felt a little... invasive.

Despite his uncertainty, Damian eventually convinced him to go, leaving him alone to talk into his phone.

…

 **A/N: Hey!**

 **Step 1: a round of apologies. I put up the wrong version of chapter 2 when I updated last time. I tend to write a few different beginnings and see which one pans out the best (which is part of the reason why I've been so slow updating lately), and I posted the wrong one. I really should work on deleting the ones I don't need, come to think of it, this is the second time I've had an issue like this. BUT, instead of totally taking down chapter 2 and putting up a totally different one (which wouldn't be very nice) or just sucking it up and writing the storyline I didn't like as well (which I'm selfish and dodn't want to do) I just took off ch#2's last segment and am tweaking what I've got so it fits. If you really want to reread it you can, but I'm doing my best to make sure you can get by without having to. Basically, we're avoiding a whole OC tangent. Sooo yeah, sorry.**

 **Step 2: Normal author's notes stuff. Thanks for reading, even if you're mad at me now, and I hope you have a good day. Follows/favorites/reviews are always more than welcome. Hopefully since I've settled on one arc now I can update quicker.**


	4. Chapter 4

When Chris got there, Jack was already flopped on the bed he had claimed for himself. "Did our baby get towed already?"

He closed the door as quietly as he could, trying to buy time. "It's probably going to be a while. Damian was just starting to call when I left."

Jack sighed. "He sent you off, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

He laughed weakly and rolled his head to look at him before sitting up. He hadn't even bothered to put his makeup back on. "Figured he would, he likes to simmer. He'll probably be trying to blow up everything that moves with his mind the moment he's off the phone."

"If I'm bothering you, I can go back out there and drive him nuts," he offered.

"No, you're fine," Jack cast a wary glance at the window. "Hopefully that truck gets here quickly, though."

Chris sat on his own bed and started to polish Orion. Neither one spoke for a while, and then it was like a dam broke.

"Why did we agree to do this?"

…

Damian closed his eyes, ears finally free of the bombarding, unfamiliar voice. That had been more agonizing than anticipated. At least it was over and somebody was coming to get this mess taken care of... part of it, anyway.

He hopped onto the car's hood to sit. He normally didn't sit there; Jack hatred it when he did that. But Jack wasn't around, and even if he was, Damian doubted he would mind in his current mindset. Hopefully Chris was weathering that storm well enough.

A long, slow sigh escaped him and he bowed his head. Karma couldn't have possibly decided to come back to haunt them before things got to this point, that would be too easy. Not that he really believed in Karma. He'd seen too many atrocities pay off to think too seriously about it. And even if it did exist, he sure as Hades deserved a lot worse.

The sound of the truck didn't necessarily pull him out of his emotional roller coaster, but gave him an excuse to push it aside to fester for later.

…

Chris stared at Orion. After a full-blown round of confessions, half of which were sobbed through a pillow, Jack was finally calming down. He was still worked up, the irregular breathing gave him away, but it was a start.

"You think I'm a monster, don't you?"

Chris looked up. "No, I don't."

Jack buried his face deeper into his pillow and mumbled something that Chris couldn't make sense of. He hesitated, unsure on what the best way to go about what he wanted to do was. He knew what it was like to feel like the scum of the earth, and he didn't even want to think about what a nervous wreck he'd be were he to come clean about the things he had done. Not even the WBBA knew everything. "I never did."

 _Stupid._ He regretted it as soon as it came out. That was _not_ how he wanted to go about it. Still, it got enough of Jack's attention that he quit hiding his face in his pillow. "What?"

Chris repressed the urge to fidget with Orion. Jack was fairly perceptive and he didn't want him to misread that as a sign of lying. "I never did," he finally repeated, pausing while he tried to piece together what to and what not to tell. "I'm a Legendary Blader. I know everyone on GanGan Galaxy, so… I already knew a lot about you."

He honed his focus on Orion, trying to ignore what he had just done. The whole Legendary Blader thing was something he deliberately kept under the rug from most people. It was fairly easy; he wasn't famous and looked like he was about to keel over in the few pictures that circulated after the Nemesis Crisis, so very few people who weren't physically there recognized him.

The following silence was enough to make his grip on Orion tighten. Finally, Jack broke it. "Y-you knew?" Chris nodded, still avoiding eye contact. "And you still… I mean, what possessed you to think that we-"

"Quit being so hard on yourself," he reprimanded. "Toby and Zeo got arrangements and they messed them up-"

"That's different!"

"How?"

"Ziggurat forced them into it, that's how! I _agreed_ to it!" Jack snapped before he turned his back on him.

He tentatively approached him and set a hand on his shoulder. Jack stiffened at the touch, but didn't flinch away from it. "Did you know what the arrangements would do to you?" Jack shook his head. "Then there you go- hardly different at all."

He laughed weakly and shrugged him off. "Not really, but nice try," he turned to face him again. His eyes darted behind him a moment and his brow creased. "Damian should have been back by now."

Chris turned to look; he was right. "He's probably avoiding coming in- simmering, remember?"

Jack hummed, looking unconvinced. "Still, I'm going to go check on him."

Some of the tension in Chris' shoulders eased. It was good to see him focusing on something else. "I'll come, too. He's smart enough not to go about trying to rip both our heads off for interrupting his peace and quiet."

Jack laughed. It was stronger this time, more genuine. "You'd be surprised at the level of stupidity he can reach when he's worked up enough."

"All the more reason for me to come."

They didn't talk most of the way, but it was comfortably quiet this time. When Jack spoke again, they were almost to the exit. "So, you're a Legendary?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "It's not really as big of a deal as people make it out to be. We saved the world one time and everyone lost their minds."

Jack chuckled. "No explanations necessary- the world's been saved plenty of times. Still, would you mind if I tell Damian? We made a bet and I want my money."

Chris knew that probably wasn't meant as a joke, but he needed a good laugh and couldn't hold it in. He had just finished composing himself when they went through the door and everything fell apart again.

…

 **A/N: Hello there! I don't own MFB. Thanks for reading; you're a dear.**

 **Depending on if I react to the stress of finals by writing like crazy while pretending they don't exist or being mature and not procrastinating, it might be a little while until the next update. Hahaha ha ha… ha. Yeah…**

 **ANYWAYS I hope you have a good day/night/whatever time it is where you are.**


	5. Chapter 5

The next few hours were chaos. First was the mirage of officers and investigators, and then the WBBA, which whisked Team Dungeon underground. Agents came for him and Jack as well, but Chris managed to convince them to settle for strict surveillance. Jack and Damian were the only two people he knew who didn't know what he had been, and he didn't want to lose being thought of as a normal, untainted human being. Besides, he would be of more help to Damian outside of the WBBA than in it.

The WBBA declared it an abduction, but decided it wasn't a strike on him after investigating, meaning that things returned to "normal." Translation: Team Dungeon was sent back to New York with no precautionary measures and he became the only thing between Jack and whoever had found him. It made his blood boil. How could they be so sure when one of his friends was already likely facing torture and death? Of course, that was making the assumption that everything wasn't over already, and he was going to wake up to find whatever was left of Damian somewhere in the morning. He pushed that oh-so-comforting thought to the back of his mind and grabbed his phone, bent on giving them a thorough piece of his mind. He hadn't expected them to be so compliant and give him access to whatever intel had made them so assured in the first place, but he wasted no time making the most of it. After a few hours of digging, his phone started to become a nuisance.

It went off again. Chris ignored it, eyes glued to his laptop. It beeped. That made seven missed calls and five voicemails. A second sounded, probably a text since Toby was getting so damned pushy, but he couldn't talk. Time was more precious than gold, and although he'd managed to get quite a bit of new information, he couldn't just stop. Still, he was hungry, his eyes were starting to hurt, and he was going to have to sleep eventually- not to mention check to make sure Jack was still hanging on. He could take ten minutes to make himself some ungodly strong coffee, call Toby back, and check on Jack. He dragged himself towards the kitchen, taking his phone with him.

The strong scent of coffee was just beginning to fill the air when Toby picked up. "Chris?"

"That's me," he affirmed, trying to will his caffeine to brew faster.

"What have you been doing? We wake up one day and the WBBA's kicking our door down, and we've barely heard from you!"

"Sorry, I've been driving myself up a wall trying to get an idea of what's happening." He rubbed his eyes. Why was his coffee taking so long?

"Aren't there people trying to do that already?"

"Not with as much dirty inside knowledge as I have, there aren't," he countered.

"Can I ask what you know?"

Chris hesitated. He thought about refusing, but couldn't make himself do it. Sometimes it helped to know, and being practically kidnapped by the WBBA probably wasn't doing much for Toby's peace of mind, even if it had been declared safe since then. "Basically, they think that the tow truck was hijacked after Damian's location was plugged into the GPS, and the culprit just went there thinking it'd be an easy target. Damian put up more of a fight than he was probably anticipating, considering the mess, but that's their assumption."

"So it wasn't an attack on you?" Chris nodded, not wanting to trust his voice. Unfortunately, Toby couldn't see it. "Chris?"

"That's right," his voice was shaking.

"Are you any closer than they are to finding him?"

Chris hesitated. He didn't want to say it. All his old knacks and knowledge of the dark underbelly of things- they were all useless. "No," he didn't go any farther than that. He couldn't go farther than that. Even if the WBBA was right, it was unlikely that Damian would be around much longer. The driver's body had been found in a ditch.

…

Toby stared at his phone long after the call ended. He remembered little of his time as Faust and had no recollection of Damian whatsoever, so now that the immediate possibility that he could be next had been eliminated, it had little more emotional weight for him than hearing about a stranger. But Chris was upset, understandably, and his inability to attach any emotional importance to Damian frustrated him to no end.

"Hey, did you ever get hold of Chris?" Masamune's voice popped out of nowhere, making him jump.

"Don't do that!" He snapped. Masamune and King were staying with him, since there was more room at his place than with Zeo, but between them, his parents, and Zeo, who was over half the time too, it got crowded. He had gotten used to it, but that didn't make their little habit of sneaking up behind him any less annoying. "And yes, I did."

"What'd he say?" King's head poked out from behind the curtains. Toby decided not to ask why he was there; it was probably better not to know. He relayed what he knew as patiently as he could between their incessant interruptions, and eventually got them to leave him alone by telling them he was going call Zeo and tell him what happened.

…

Chris barely managed to work for half an hour after checking on Jack before his phone went berserk. Chris glanced at it, eyebrow raised; even Toby wasn't normally that pushy. It was Jack.

 _Help_

 _I'm at home_

 _Someone's here_

 _I'm hiding_

 _Can't call he'll hear me_

Chris flew out the door, not even bothering to finish reading them. He kept track of the notifications, grateful for each one. If Jack was still able to use his phone, he hadn't been found yet. When they stopped, he completely disregarded the few traffic rules he was obeying. But it was late at night, few people were on the roads, and somehow a posse of sirens wasn't following him when he arrived.

An SUV was in the driveway, so he controlled his deceleration as he stopped at the curb. Screeching tires tended to draw attention and he couldn't afford that. He didn't bother looking over the messages Jack had sent and launched Orion the moment he was out of his truck.

The door was closed but unlocked. All the lights were on. Everything was quiet. Chris cautiously went ahead, Orion close behind. The silence made him uneasy. There should have been some sort of sound; he didn't want to think about what it could mean that there wasn't. He heard something move in the hall and went towards it. The smart thing would have been to wait and ambush, but he doubted Jack had time for him to be smart.

"Don't move," he barely made it through the entrance before the command was given. Chris slowly put his hands behind his head and turned to study the figure. He was young, but this couldn't have been his first job. He seemed too unruffled, and his eyes were too cold. His clothes were well-coordinated and bore what seemed to be an insignia on his arm, although he didn't recognize it as one from his time as a blader for hire. Had Orion not been spinning healthily just out of sight, Chris would have been far more concerned about having that launcher trained on him. Even with drawing on the comforting power, his heart was pounding. It quickened another notch when he noticed Jack sprawled on the floor a few feet behind the blader for hire.

He eyed the distance between them. The hall wasn't big to begin with, and they weren't on opposite ends. He forced his shallow breaths to deepen and silently steeled himself to the very real possibility that his reflexes weren't fast enough to do this without serious injury.

And then he charged.

Orion made it in time- not by much, but enough. He felt more than anything else Orion knock its opponent's path off kilter and away from his head. He slammed into the stunned figure, knocking them both to the ground.

…

"Five times. Five _flipping_ times I try to call you, Zeo Abyss, and do you answer me? No, of course not. Why would you do that? It's not like you told me you'd keep your phone on you and that you'd answer me right away. Oh, wait, yes you did," Toby muttered. But the sharpness of his tone didn't linger long, soon replaced with something more rational. His phone could have died, or he could be eating dinner. Zeo's household had one of the weirdest eating schedules he had ever seen, weird as in unpredictable, and his mother was strict about phones at the table. He would wait an hour or so and then try again. There was nothing to worry about.

…

He had a pulse, thank God. Chris sighed in relief as he felt the blood pump through Jack's vein. He couldn't find any injuries that would prompt him to be so comatose, although the blood that he was getting everywhere wasn't helping. He glanced down at his oozing forearm and grabbed the cheesecloth from the closet in the end of the hall. Why they had cheesecloth there, he never understood, but hopefully they wouldn't mind if he used it. He wrapped the entire roll around the wound tightly. He could worry about it more later; he just needed to try not to bleed out before then. There was an invaluable resource beginning to recover from Orion's powerful attack and, now that he knew Jack was alive, he had no intentions of letting the chance go to waste.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, your choice."

...

An hour later, when Zeo still didn't answer, he decided to call his mother.

"Hello, Toby."

"Hi, is Zeo there?" he asked.

There was a long pause. "He's not with you? He left to visit you hours ago."

Toby's stomach twisted into a knot. "No, and he hasn't been answering his phone," he told her, deciding that there definitely was something to worry about. She mentioned something about calling the police and ended the call before he could even reply. He hesitated a moment, knowing he should call, too. Still, Chris needed to know.

He tapped his phone as its monotonous ring repeated. _Come on, Chris. You said you weren't going to do this again._

True to his word, Chris answered. "What do you need?"

Toby hesitated, fully aware that King had wandered within earshot. Breaking the news to Chris abruptly was one thing, but King… "Zeo's gone," he told him and watched King run out of the room wide-eyed, probably to tell Masamune. _Sorry..._

"What?"

Something was wrong. Chris was breathing heavily, and something about his voice was wrong, almost cold. "H-he's gone. He left home hours ago and never got here, and he's not answering his phone, and-"

He was cut off first by a string of profanities. "Does the police know yet?"

"His mom's calling."

"Good. Tell the WBBA, too, as soon as you hang up. They're pretty fast. You'll be somewhere safe in no time. I won't be at my place, so don't worry if they try to find me and can't."

"Where will you be? They can just come there," he asked. Masamune and King peeked out from behind the corner.

Chris sighed. "Listen, Toby, I'm going to be more helpful outside the WBBA than in it. I'll be fine, I swear, but I can't have you telling every agent you see where I am."

"No-"

"Look, I've finally got a real lead. If the WBBA comes and gets its red tape all over, they'll blow it. So just keep quiet about me and let me work." Chris snapped. He didn't even give him time to reply before he ended the call.

"He's really missing, too?" Masamune ventured into the room first.

"Looks like it," Toby sighed.

"That was Chris, right?" King glanced at the phone.

Toby nodded, "He wants us to call the WBBA and go back under protection while he follows some sort of lead that I guess the WBBA can't be entrusted with."

It was only after the words had left his mouth that Toby realized what he had done. It had been intended as just a small snap to hold back the impending rant about Chris' stupidity that was bound to come out eventually. Instead, he had dropped an information bombshell. The following indignant remarks about Chris trying to push them to the sidelines soon escalated towards going to help, despite not knowing where Chris even was and Toby's desperate attempts to reason with them. Finally, he caved and packed a bag of his own. If he couldn't dissuade them, he could at least try to keep them out of too much trouble.

…

 **A/N: I don't own Beyblade. Thanks for reading :)**


	6. Chapter 6

The room was small, but enough for what was required. The hospital-style bed was centered against the wall opposite to the door, flanked by a chair on one side and medical equipment on the other. It was hardly a welcoming environment, between being small, cramped, and lacking natural light, but Damian was hardly doing anything that would earn him luxuries, anyway.

It was in the chair that Ziggurat waited. Damian, for his part, had so far refused to acknowledge his existence, which was fine. His sense of curiosity would get the best of him eventually, and he had no quarrels with waiting.

The wait didn't last much longer.

"Is there a reason you're just sitting there?"

His voice was even, reserved, and the corners of Ziggurat's mouth curved upwards for a moment at how cautious Damian was being. "Is there something you would rather I do?"

"Leave."

"Come now, Damian. If you're going to say such hurtful things, at least look at me while you're doing it."

Damian's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. "No."

Ziggurat stood and leaned over him, and they finally made eye contact. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were scared of me. You know that, don't you?"

"Call me crazy, but we aren't exactly on equal terms here," Damian said and tugged against the straps on his wrists.

"No, I suppose we aren't," he agreed, "but that is hardly my fault."

Damian snorted. "You're trying to blame me for this situation? Seriously?"

"You _are_ the one who seriously injured two of my employees and yourself," Ziggurat said as if it justified everything. It grated on Damian's patience like sandpaper.

"I wouldn't have injured myself if _someone_ hadn't beaten the crap out of me and dragged me here in the first place."

Ziggurat frowned. "The injuries you sustained on your way here were not part of the plan, although I must admit, I'm insulted that you would think I would have someone deliberately cause you harm."

Damian looked away and let out a low, long sigh. "Right. Sorry."

"It's perfectly all right. Your apology means a-"

"How could I forget that the only one who's allowed to hurt your favorite lab rat is you?"

Ziggurat's face darkened. "Lab rat? That's an ugly way to put it."

"How would you describe something used to test experimental substances, then?" Damian snapped.

"You aren't a something, Damian. You're a someone. And I fail to remember ever using anything experimental without your consent."

The patronizing tone was too much. Damian had lived with it, and plenty more, for over half his life and he would not go back easily. "Consent? _Consent?_ You call a little kid agreeing to something he doesn't even understand consent?" He yanked against the restraints. If he wasn't strapped down, he would have broken more than Ziggurat's nose. He would have paid dearly for it, between his injuries and consequences Ziggurat would order, but it would have been worth it.

Unfortunately, he was strapped down and Ziggurat didn't even flinch. "At that age you weren't on anything experimental whatsoever. Everything you took was well-researched and available for public use."

"Not for what you were using it for, it wasn't, " he muttered.

Ziggurat's irritated, almost constipated expression shifted into something more dangerous and back to normal so quickly Damian thought he must have imagined it before he was slapped across the face. "I don't appreciate attacks on my character, Damian," he said coldly.

Damian focused on the bag of IV fluid."And I don't appreciate getting tied to a bed, but here I am."

"Look at me." Ziggurat grabbed his jaw and turned his head towards him. "I didn't want to have to keep you like this either, but I can't have you endangering yourself and everyone around you. I hope you understand."

There was steel in his voice now, and nothing good ever came from that. Damian tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "If you think you can smack be once and turn me into some cowering doormat, you're in for an unpleasant surprise."

Ziggurat chuckled. "Actually, my temper getting the best of me wasn't anticipated at all. I just came here to tell you that I'm going to be on a trip for a day or so, and that if I find out that you caused any trouble whatsoever while I'm gone, I will see to it that you are drugged senseless until you're well enough to receive arrangements. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

Damian paled. Ziggurat's mouth twitched upwards. "I didn't think so." He turned to leave, but paused in the door. "I won't have anyone come in for an hour to give you some time to think," he called over his shoulder.

And then he was gone.

…

It wasn't that Zeo had anything against country music. He could tolerate it. Occasionally, he even found a song that he liked, but with the way it was blaring while he was laying across the backseat, bound and gagged with duct tape with a pillowcase over his head, he doubted he would ever be able to listen to it again.

He shifted in yet another attempt to find a less uncomfortable position. The man had taped the bottom of the pillowcase, making it too small for Zeo to get it off, not for lack of trying. He could _feel_ the knots growing in his shoulders.

The radio went on commercial break. So far, he had counted seventeen songs. Average of three minutes a song made almost an hour, with ads was likely over an hour, and that was once he had started counting. He had no idea how much time had passed before that, but at least in the situation he had been quite literally thrown into he could keep track of the absolute minimum amount of time he had been in the car. It was hardly any actual control over the situation, but it provided him with something to do, and that was something his sanity craved.

He barely knew anything. He knew he practically helpless, the pillowcase was scratchy, he was getting stiff, and whoever had kidnapped him was a surprisingly normal looking man that listened to country music and had a voice that made him sound like he hadn't spoken in a week. He didn't even know if anybody had noticed that he was gone. How long did that normally take? Were people looking for him yet?

The blinker clicked and Zeo felt the car turn and slow down. They had been going fairly straight and steadily paced for the entire time he had been counting, so he figured they were on a highway. His pulse quickened. If they were off the highway, it probably meant he was reasonably close to wherever his kidnapper was taking him, probably to do horrible things.

 _Don't think like that._

They stopped, then turned to the left. And then the right. Right again. Left. Right. Wherever they were, it was hilly- not that that helped narrow down the list of possible locations. Stop. Left. Gravel. Stop.

The engine shut off and the man got out. The door nearest his feet opened shortly after and he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet; there was little else he could do.

The door closed. The man grabbed him from behind and directed him forwards. "Three stairs up ahead," his raspy voice spoke to him for the first time since he was thrown in the car. They creaked as Zeo stepped on them. He was escorted inside and a light turned on, although it did nothing for him but allow him to see the white and blue striped pattern on his pillowcase. The door's hinges creaked, too, as did the floor, and it smelled like wood.

"This way," the man said, nudging him to the left. "Turn around." He hesitantly fulfilled the request, trying to ignore the way his stomach was churning.

"Sit down."

He found himself in a chair.

The man walked past him and sat to his left, on something more cushioned by the sound of it. "Now we just have to wait. Don't worry, if you behave I won't hurt you in the meantime."

Zeo didn't move, at least not physically. His mind was racing. He didn't know what this man considered "behaving," and he definitely wanted to avoid pain as long as he could. Still, he had said "in the meantime," so he was going to do _something_ to him eventually. Sitting around waiting for it was a horrible idea, but trying to get away would likely only make things worse, but if things were going to get bad anyway-

After what felt like hours of his sense of self-preservation fighting with itself, he heard tires on the gravel outside. It might as well had been a death knell.

"Hey, company's here. Don't go anywhere." The man opened the door and people walked in.

"Do you have him?" Zeo stiffened.

"Sure do. He's right over there. Management did a terrible job assigning the first one, if you ask me. This one's in good shape. I was careful with him." The man said, voice far more businesslike than what Zeo had previously heard, but still harsh on the ears.

"I certainly hope so." Footsteps approached and circled him slowly. "Well, he's definitely in better condition than Damian was. A physical examination will be made later, but if you were indeed, as you said, 'careful with him,' I will see to it that your managers know that I am satisfied. If I understand your system correctly, that affects your salary."

The meaning of the words barely registered; Zeo was too concerned with the horribly familiar voice to care. Ziggurat. Things finally started to connect in his brain. First Damian, now him…

He ran- never mind that his arms were still trapped behind him and he couldn't see. He couldn't- no, wouldn't- just let Ziggurat use him again.

He didn't even have time to process what happened before he found himself face-down on the floor.

"Was it necessary to throw him? I payed a rather large sum of money to assure he was as undamaged as possible."

Zeo didn't listen to another word that any of them said, focusing on getting _away_. Not that it worked.

…

 **A/N: HOLY CRAP I JUST NOTICED IT'S BEEN, LIKE, A YEAR HAHA OOPSIES**

 ***Ahem* Yes, well, my sincere apologies. Life happens, and sometimes it happens very… unpleasantly. I'm fine, nothing to worry about, but yeah.**

 **I can't believe there are people who are reading this. Like you guys are so sweet and I really appreciate it (even if this isn't a very good story at all but heyy it's something out of my comfort zone and I'm having fun so what does it matter?)**


	7. Chapter 7

The blader for hire cooperated remarkably well. Chris barely had to break a few fingers before he was spilling intel.

And what glorious intel it was.

Targets included Toby, Zeo, and "some blue-haired idiot who I heard wouldn't stay down and almost lost us our money," as he had so affectionately put it, which Chris assumed was Damian. They were to be delivered in as good condition as possible to their employer, Dr. Ziggurat. And, the mother of all useful information, the blader for hire had a drop off address.

More pressingly, however, Chris knew that Jack had been drugged and should be waking up fairly soon. The knowledge had nearly made Chris' temper snap then and there. Drugging was, in his opinion, not worth all the trouble. It was far too easy to give too little or, even worse, too much.

At least Damian was likely still alive, then. Chris knew enough that Ziggurat was an issue from team Starbreaker's past, not his, and Chris doubted that Ziggurat wanted them so he could kill them. He had a better chance than if someone from Chris' past had found him, at least.

Chris tied up the blader for hire and left him to pace. The problem was, simply put, what to do? Staying was a bad idea; the WBBA would look here sooner rather than later. He would go to the drop-off eventually, that much was obvious, but when? He couldn't do it now. He didn't know if the rendezvous point would have been Jack's final destination or not, but if it was he would never pull off a rescue in this condition. Still, he couldn't afford to wait too long. Tomorrow? Maybe, if his arm was holding up. If he brought Jack with him, and his arm was even halfway bearable, they could probably do it.

Probably.

It was hardly an ideal set of conditions, but it was better than nothing, so he hoisted Jack up as well as he could and half-dragged, half-carried him to his truck and put him in the passenger seat. He could go a ways towards the drop off, pull over, and get some rest. After a moment's thought, he went back, grabbed a few things, and put them next to Jack before driving away.

…

Jack couldn't think straight until the third time that he woke up. By that point, Chris had pulled off onto a dirt road that led down to a river. It was calm, secluded, and the sun was shining bright enough to make it difficult for him to fall asleep. The first sensible thing he said was "What happened to your arm?"

Chris hesitated. "Well, I went to… take care of the guy who had broken in and, um… long story short, I beat him, but he- it sounds worse than it is, I promise- he got me on the arm with a knife. It's not bad or anything, but it still hurts."

For a moment, Jack didn't respond. He just kept looking at his arm. "He… I'm sorry, he what?"

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. "Cut me. It's not that bad, I promise, and I cleaned it up and glued it shut, so it should be fine." Luckily, it was on his left arm and he was right-handed. Trying to fix it up on his own otherwise would have been even more of an... adventure.

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You what?" he asked, although this time his voice was lower, and sounded far less concerned. Chris had heard Jack use that exact same tone on Damian before, usually when he had done something stupid. It wasn't a request for repetition.

"It's not like it was deep or anything, I swear," he elaborated. It wasn't a complete lie per se. With as many painkillers as he had in his system, he didn't feel that bad. Thank goodness he had a spare shirt in the back to put on though, he didn't want to think about how unbelievable that would have sounded if he still had his bloody shirt on.

As it was, Jack looked far from convinced. If anything, with the way his frown deepened, Chris half expected him to snap any second. "You glued it shut?"

"Um, yes?"

"But it's not that bad?"

"Right." Chris couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom, as if he was in a coffin waiting for Jack to nail it shut and shove it off a cliff.

Instead, Jack just let his head rest against the seat with a tired sigh and massaged his temples. "You're as bad as Damian, you know that?"

"Um, sorry?"

It must not have been a bad response, because Jack rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "So, care to tell me why I woke up in the middle of the nowhere?"

"Well, it's mostly a placeholder until we figure out what to do."

"And that means…?"

Chris filled him in on what he had missed, mostly. He left out a few things, like how he had gotten the information out of the blader for hire, but Jack (thankfully) didn't question him on it. All in all, he seemed to absorb the information pretty well.

When he gave Jack the address, his eyebrows knitted together. "It couldn't be that simple," he muttered.

"What couldn't?"

Jack started, like he didn't realize he had said that aloud. "Oh, it's nothing. There was a small branch of HD Academy in Bey Springs, that's all. It was one of the first to close when Ziggurat started pulling the best into one place."

Chris mentally filed the information. Jack was right; it almost did sound too easy, but who was he to write it off before checking it out? If they didn't find anything at the rendezvous point, it wouldn't hurt to look.

Still, before they did that, he had to sleep.

…

Despite Damian's claims to the contrary, Jack was patient. He had to wait for his paint to dry if he didn't want the colors to blend, and for ink to dry if he didn't want it to smear. He fixed his makeup every morning. He put up with the royal piece of work that was Damian (although Jack had to give Damian some credit, he wasn't easy to put up with either; Jack had no idea how Chris managed to deal with both of them).

And so he waited. He waited until Chris' face relaxed and his breathing deepened, and then he waited some more for good measure. He stepped out of the truck, paced around outside to stretch his legs, and came back. Chris didn't even twitch. Not a light sleeper, then. Jack smiled and waited a few extra minutes before he slipped Chris' phone out of his pocket and stepped out of the truck again.

Chris, just like he had been for the last whoever-knew-how-long, since the clock in Chris' truck was broken and he hadn't thought to bring Jack's phone, didn't even stir.

Jack glanced at the clock. No wonder he was so hungry; it was well after noon and he hadn't eaten anything other than a bag of fruit snacks that he had found in the glove compartment and some cold coffee. Why in the world did Chris stop in the middle of nowhere? He wanted food!

 _Focus._

He unlocked it. His sense of self-preservation kept most of his guilt about snooping around Chris' phone in check. Jack would honor Chris' desire not to get the WBBA involved if at all possible. After how utterly useless it was with dealing with the Spiral Force, Jack had very little respect for the organization itself, anyways.

However, Jack also knew that Ziggurat was no idiot. Even if they found Damian and Zeo at Bey Springs, just him and Chris trying to get them out would do little more than give Ziggurat two less vacant arrangement pods. And if they weren't there, wherever he was keeping them would be no easier to get into.

They needed help.

He found Toby's number easily enough. Jack hoped that he and his teammates would be willing to help, even if it was only to find Zeo.

The uneasy feeling only got worse as he put Chris' phone up to his ear. He had never even spoken to Toby, and rarely to Faust. He knew that the arrangements did a real number on his mind and a few things from half-listening to Zeo talk back at HD Academy. He was fairly certain that he remembered Zeo mentioning that they were friends with one of the members of Gan Gan Galaxy, although that probably wouldn't help his case any; Damian _had_ sent two of their members to the hospital.

At least the likelihood of finding Damian and Zeo in the same place would be a good motivator… maybe. Jack sure hoped so.

...

 **A/N: WOW GUYS CHECK IT OUT I ACTUALLY MANAGED TO UPDATE SOMETHING IN A PSEUDO-TIMELY MANNER!**

 **Anyways, I don't own Beyblade. Thanks for reading/following/favoriting/reviewing. You guys are too sweet and brighten my whole day.**


	8. Chapter 8

When Toby's phone rang, King and Masamune had just gone to raid the unfortunate snack vendor nearby, and he was trying to keep himself from thinking about their current situation- which he was realizing grew more outrageous by the minute- by burying himself in a book. In short, he was so emotionally stretched it wasn't even funny, and feeling something randomly start vibrating in his pocket nearly scared him out of his skin.

It was Chris. For a moment, all he could think to do was stare. He barely managed to answer before it went to his voicemail.

"Chris? Thank goodness, I've been worried sick. Are you okay?"

"I'm… not Chris-"

Oh no. A pit formed in his stomach. No, no, no- this wasn't happening. "Who are you? Where's Chris?" He asked, vaguely impressed with how calm he sounded.

"Hm? Oh! Jack. I'm Jack, from Starbreaker. Chris is here, too, don't worry."

Toby let out a sigh of relief. "Don't scare me like that. Jeez."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. So you two are both okay?"

Jack let out a laugh that had nothing to do with humor. "Well, all things considered, we could be worse, I suppose, but I wouldn't call being drugged and almost abducted 'okay,' and Chris hurt his arm. He won't let me look at it, but I'm pretty sure it's bad."

"Right, okay." Toby nodded. Hopefully he didn't sound as worried as hearing that made him feel. "Where are you now?"

"I'd tell you if I could, but i don't know. It looks like the middle of nowhere. But I can tell you where we're going."

"Close enough. We were going to try to find Chris on our own, but if you-"

"I'm sorry," Jack cut him off. "You were what?"

Toby rolled his eyes. "I know that Chris told us not to, but good luck sidelining King and Masamune. I'm pretty sure it's against the laws of nature. And there's no way we're backing out now that he's hurt, so you can just tell him to-"

"You're coming to help?" Jack asked, and the shock in his voice took Toby by surprise.

"That's… that's the plan, yes."

"Oh thank God," he said, voice cracking. "I was worried you wouldn't."

That made Toby's eyebrows shoot skyward. "Why? We're his friends! Of course we want to help."

"Yeah… Friends, help, got it. That's great." Jack managed to choke out. There wasn't any doubt about it, he was either crying, or just about to. "Oh, shit- I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, absently wondering at how he went from a few words away from cussing out Chris to attempting to calm a crying stranger over the phone. "You've just been through a lot, remember? You have more than a good enough excuse."

"Thanks." A few moments later, he kept going. "There's something you should know."

"What is it?"

"This whole mess? It doesn't have anything to do with Chris at all. Ziggurat's after us."

…

Chris' arm really hurt.

That was the first coherent thought he had after being dragged into the world of wakefulness. The second was that he could take more pain medication if it was after noon. The third was that his phone wasn't in his pocket when he reached for it to check the time, followed shortly by 'it must have fallen out.'

The next, which came after he sat up to look for it and fully snapped him awake through sheer power of horror, was that Jack was sitting in the bed of his truck with his phone.

"Jack," he called as he half-stepped, half-fell through the door. "Please tell me you just got bored and were watching speedpaints on youtube or something."

Jack shook his head with a small smile. He had looked bad before, Chris knew that, but the complete ensemble of smeared makeup and blood looked even worse when combined with the smattering of bruises that were visible now. "Sorry to disappoint you, Chris."

"What did you do?"

He shrugged, seemingly at ease. It grated on Chris' already frazzled nerves like sandpaper. "I made a phone call. As it turns out, your friends didn't go to the WBBA like you asked. They were on their way to your place hoping to get a lead as to where you were going. I told them what I knew and agreed to meet them at Bey Springs. Nothing too complicated."

For a moment, Chris didn't say anything. He didn't trust himself to. Finally, he asked as politely as he could manage, "Why did you do that?"

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "Why? Because I don't want to get thrown into an arrangement pod and turned back into an insane peacock. It's not that complicated."

"I won't let that happen. Have some faith in me. I've saved the world, for crying out loud!" He burst out.

If the outbreak bothered him, Jack didn't show it. "And how exactly are you going to keep it from happening when you have one good arm? I'm not even sure you could launch Orion right now."

"Yes, I could!" The fact that when he tried to throw his hands up frustratedly, searing pain stopped his bad arm from getting too far did little to help his case. "You're just-"

"And besides that," Jack talked over him, "we aren't dealing with just anyone. You might not have dealt with Ziggurat before, but I have, and trust me when I say that we can't just go waltzing into wherever he has Damian and Zeo on our own. And-"

"Do you think I'm expecting to just waltz in? How dumb do you think I am? I know what I'm doing! I used to do this kind of thing all the time!"

For a terrifying moment, time seemed to freeze. Chris could see it all pan out. Jack wanting to know what that meant. Him not having an answer. Should he tell the truth or scramble for some sort of believable lie? Jack had been honest with him before…

As it turned out, he didn't need to do either. Jack just shook his head before curling his legs up against his chest and resting his chin on his knees. "No, you don't get it," he said quietly. "He's smart. He can get into your head and pick you apart from the inside out. It's like he knows everything. If we try to do something with just the two of us, there's no way we'd make it out. Not sane, anyways." He took a shaky breath and wiped at his eyes. "I don't want to go crazy again, Chris."

He stared at Jack. Jack stared out into space. "Yeah," he finally said. "That's understandable."

"Glad you think so."

"Although I still really don't appreciate you stealing my phone and going behind my back."

"If you're looking for an apology, you're not getting one."

Chris made a frustrated noise and snatched his phone. "It's too late to do anything about it now, anyways. So, what did you and Toby decide to do, and who's joining the party?"

"Team Dungeon minus Zeo, and they're meeting us at Bey Springs unless we tell them otherwise."

Chris nodded. That could have been worse. King and Masamune were both unbearably loud, true, but they were also more than strong enough to handle themselves in situations like this. Maybe they would be willing to storm the front door and cause a distraction.

"Well, I'm going to check and see where they are now. Maybe we can meet them sooner and head over together, since you're so into safety in numbers."

As it turned out, Toby was more than happy with that idea, and they agreed to meet at the train station. Which brought up a slight problem: the two of them looked like they had gone through hell.

Admittedly, it wasn't as much of a problem as it could have been; Chris had clothes in his truck which weren't bloody. They would be a little big on Jack, but they would do. It was more Jack himself who was the problem.

"You want me to what?"

"It's not even cold. You'll be fine," Chris said from where he was knee-deep in the river.

Jack, on the other hand, was stubbornly situated on the riverbank, arms crossed and somehow managing to look haughty. "You think it's the cold I'm worried about? Fish live in there, Chris. Fish! Doing all kinds of unsanitary fish things! And that's ignoring the fact that it's probably polluted, and-"

"Jack," Chris cut him off before he could get himself too worked up. "I don't want to argue with you about this, but you can't just go walking around looking like that."

Jack scowled at him, and Chris got the feeling that if he had made that comment in practically any other situation, Jack would have ripped his head off. Instead, he rolled his eyes, waded in a few steps, took off his shirt and dunked it into the water before slinking back out. "Most of my looking awful is your fault, Mr. 'I-Bled-All-Over-You-But-I'm-Fine.' I can get the rest of it off with this."

"Aw, come on. That's no fun."

"Splashing around in filthy river water isn't fun. It's gross."

"I don't see any difference between splashing around in it and soaking your shirt in it and then scrubbing your face."

"It's called choosing the lesser of two evils." Jack said with a huff before he turned around. Chris took the opportunity to strike.

He sprinted the few feet to the riverbank, wrapped his good arm around Jack's waist, and pulled. Jack fell and landed flat on his back with a spectacular splash.

When he resurfaced, he was sputtering and swearing profusely enough to impress a sailor.

"That's for stealing my phone."

...

A/N: Yooooo, I am back! After almost a year! Again! In my defense, I DID write an entire short-term puppy fic in the meantime. Give me some credit where it's due.

Anyways, sorry for the long wait! I won't say that hopefully the next update will be sooner, because I feel like I say that every time and honestly? When has it ever happened? I just don't have the free time filled life that I used to back in the days of my youth.

Thanks for reading! The next chapter (whenever that comes lol) should have more actual happenings going on :)


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